The hospital loomed in the dark like a quiet, solitary sentinel of the ravaged countryside. Nurse Mera had run late this night and the eerie feel of the outside was not helping her senses any. She had forgotten it was her shift and was hoping none would notice. It was hot and the doors between areas, the ER, the waiting room and the Lobby were all propped open to let the air filtration system circulate more freely. Mera took her seat at the receptionist's desk, taking quick note of those waiting in chairs in the ER before busying herself with her work. Azreth, an individual of considerable dry, comedic wit was there. Two morticians, whom she recognized as Rictor and the effeminate St. John, lingered near the patient’s cubicles. She smiled a bit to herself, then lowered her head to her work. A moment later, a man came into the lobby, slowly backing into the hospital as he put his gun away. Mera recognized Commander Garth Lowinn from a previous visit to the hospital.
"Welcome back, Garth."
"Good to be back. This is one of the only places a body can find peace in this hole," Garth said dryly. Mera nodded. The hospital doors swung open again as a man entered, holding his arm. By the pained expression on his face, Mera knew instantly he was injured.
"This, of course, is a hospital. You do all have jobs? I'm bleedin' over here!" The mans' voice came out in a ragged brogue, twisted by wound on his arm. Mera inclined her head to Garth to pardon herself, then led the injured man toward one of the curtained exam areas. As she did so, she passed by the two morticians, who were whispering to one another. She stopped only briefly to consider them.
"Can I help you, sirs?" Her question was answered only by shy glances. She shrugged and helped Mal onto a sterile gurney in one of the small, cubicle like curtained off exam areas.
"Lets have a look at what you got there," she said warmly as she rolled up his sleeve.
"Cross-fire, 'tween some Freemen and the Nukes, on Grand and Larson," the man said bitterly. "Them Nukes got big guns, lemme tell you," he continued. His loud voice boomed over the ER. The others in the lobby could not help hearing as Mera continued her practiced bedside manner.
"Mr.?" She questioned him as she looked at the wound.
"Lhavaar. Call me Mal. Everyone does," he answered..
"Well, Mal, seems you had a close call. It is deep, but the bullet just grazed." Mera picked up some cotton balls and swabbed them with antiseptic. She looked at Mal, indicating the medication. "This is going to sting."
"Of course it is, but not as much as the original bullet." He remarked. Mera smiled a bit, then proceeded to clean out the wound. The hospital hummed quietly as she worked, the computer system overhead occasionally making sounds as it warmed to life. They were unaware that Mal's description of the guns had produced an interesting, if not lively, interchange in the ER waiting area beyond them.
==
Azreth jerked his head at the cubicle where the nurse was with the patient. "Did you hear that? Everyone has guns!" His laughter was sarcastic and biting.
"Not everyone," Garth commented dryly, moving toward chairs and pulling his old six-shooter from his belt holster. "I don't, as a rule."
Azreth acknowledged the weapon with a glance. "Its nice, but I don't see what its going to do against someone with armor and a plasma rifle."
The removal of the gun incited a reaction from the flamboyant St. John "Oh, we have so many big guns down below!" The mortician squealed to Azreth and Garth. His partner shot him a dirty look, then rose to stick his head in the cubicle.
"Any disposal, madam?" Rictor asked as St. John hovered near him.
Mera nodded finishing up with Mal. "Yes, in B Ward. We have two who could use you and your colleague’s attention." Rictor and St. John were immediately enthusiastic, then rushed off to the ward to examine the days dead. Mera rolled her eyes at them. "Pathologists." She said, then helped Mal off the gurney and back into the lobby. Azreth and Garth soon followed, Garth’s weapon still in his hand.
Mal looked at the gun in Garth's hand as Mera went back behind the receptionist's desk. "Careful, sonny… might shoot someone's eye out." Mal's voice was dry and flat.
Garth shook his head at the comment. "Its unloaded for now. I risked too much a few nights ago in here." He let his voice trail off, the memories of the unpleasant evening lingering. Mal didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.
"And You'd be surprised what a gun like that could do," Mal said to Azreth, having overheard his conversation with Garth from the exam area where Mera had taken care of him. "All bullets kill, bud. And not everyone has armor or a plasma rifle."
"Yeah, but you don't look the type who goes about taking punks out from the streets of Rydynn," Azreth noted, looking at Mal to take in his appearance.
"Plenty of punks to take out," Mal answered to Azreth, his voice barely audible.
"Yeah, punks and radiation are the only things that never seem to run out" Azreth agreed.
"No, for the time being I have bigger fish to fry. When I'm done with them, I'll start with the rest of the evil out there." Mal said, stretching a bit.
"How noble. I'll take out the really bad ones, then the ones who aren't quite as bad, then I'll take out the ones who aren't really too bad, then I'll take the rest of them out." Azreth purposefully antagonized him, counting off on his fingers.
"When was the last time you did something to help the situation on this rock?" Garth suddenly turned on Azreth, jumping into the conversation animatedly.
"Some fanatics attacked me the other day. I took out two!" Azreth’s defended himself. Garth just rolled his eyes as if to say it was the same old song and moved to the window. One could actually see stars in the murky sky that night. Mera joined him at the sill, looking up into the sky. They quietly discussed the beauty of sailing among the stars. They were blissfully, if momentarily, unaware of the discoveries being made by in Ward B.
==
Rictor and St. John made an extremely odd duo. Rictor was all business, a shining example of what a pathologist draws to mind. St. John, on the other hand, looked more like something from a 20th century drag show. He dressed in a kimono which was offset by his thick white hair, pale skin and hot pink polished nails. The commonality they shared was their joy in death and the examination of it. The two patients before them appeared to have been a medical student and a solider.
Mal, finally bored with the talk of guns in the lobby (his was destroyed when he was wounded), decided to leave the company of Azreth. Mera, with Garth by an outer window didn’t see Mal slip off toward Ward B. Rictor showed no signs of surprise when Mal found them. In light of that, Mal took it upon himself to join the two pathologists as they examined the cadavers.
"Where did you find these guys?" He asked Rictor, pointing to the dead soldier. Rictor looked up from the cranial wound he was examining.
"Ahhh ... well, they all end up here eventually," Rictor said. Everyone ended up with him, eventually
"Amen to that," Mal nodded.. Rictor's fingers suddenly hit metal. The doctor pulled out a shell fragment as a gush of fresh blood drained onto the pillow.
"Obvious cause of death. May I see that?" Mal held his fingers out for the shell.
"It blew on entry." Rictor handed the shell to Mal, shaking his head.
"Blew up?" Mal repeated, turning the shell over in his fingers. As Rictor nodded, Mal raised a curious eyebrow.
"Quite damaging, really." Rictor took notes, his eyes still on the corpse.
Mal looked over the body. "Well, we all know who killed this poor sap." His notation was, as becoming habit, dry. "The Nukes are the only ones with capability to manufacture explosive bullets." He meant the Followers of Sidd Neverr, of the Church of the Nuclear Messiah. He pointed out that the detonation circuit was smeared, a sure sign the bullet had exploded on contact. Rictor made the appropriate notes, then shrugged.
"The rest of him still looks intact," he said, finishing up his examination. Mal held up the shell.
"Mind if I keep this?" Rictor nodded at him, then called to the nurse's station for a gurney. Limer, the hospital aide, soon came down the hall, followed by Mera, who’d passed on the call, and Garth, who was simply curious. It was a quiet evening and no one seemed to mind.
Mal hardly took notice of the growing audience as he poked at the cadaver's leg. "Rictor, look at this," he said, pulling the pathologist ever closer to the body.
Rictor leaned over it, then looked up at Mal. "What do you think it is?"
"I'm not sure. But, let me take a look." Mal spoke quietly as he made a small incision at the site. There was subtle "chink" as the blade hit metal, then a loud humming noise began to fill the examination room. "EXPLOSIVE!" Mal yelled.
Someone else yelled, "HIT THE DECK!"
St. John began screaming but it didn’t stop the flamboyant aide from taking cover. Mera and Garth quickly followed suit. The cadaver's leg shook, then exploded, sending mutilated flesh and blood all over the room.
Mal was the first to stand, wiping a bit of flesh off his shoulder. He approached the corpse gingerly. "Faulty circuit. That sure livened up my day," he commented, then began examining the spent shell.
"Haven't seen many of those," Rictor commented as Mera was pulled up by Garth.
"I have," Mal said matter-of-factly, placing the shell in his pocket.
"The amusement humans derive from possibly hazardous situations is ever puzzling." The computer's voice echoed through the ward, causing Garth to glance at the ceiling..
"Maybe you should try it sometime, Elliot." Garth grinned, knowing the answer.
"Garth, since I am not actually a living entity, I cannot really die." The computer was crisp.
Rictor began to instruct Limer on where to take the body when Mal stopped him. "Hold on. We don't want anymore surprises." Mal said, taking out a thin card from his sock. He waved it over the body slowly, keeping a safe distance. "We got another one," he said, noting the faint glowing near the man’s shoulder.
"How do we eliminate it?" Rictor asked.
"I'm not a surgeon." Mal shrugged. "Hopefully it won't detonate unless its tapped."
"May I, gentlemen?" The computers professional voice radiated over the room. Assuming the affirmative after waiting the allotted programmed time, Elliot continued, "Then step away from the corpse, everyone. I would advise you all to get behind something solid as a precautionary measure."
Limer stood behind Mal as Mera took cover behind Garth. Mal looked over his shoulder at the slow, slacking orderly. "Wimp," he said, then focused on the computer.
Mera cautiously peeked over Garth's shoulder, holding her breath in anticipation. Rictor stood with St. John, who bit on a nail nervously. They all waited as Elliot began to function, unsure of what, if anything, was about to happen.
As Rictor moved St. John behind another gurney in the ward, Garth motioned for Mera to follow him outside the room. They could watch from behind the blinded window.
"Who the hell puts bombs in people, anyway?" Azreth complained as a machine akin to a small plasma cannon lowered from the ceiling panels. Elliot was always revealing new surprises. Azreth had heard the first explosion and came jogging down the hall from the lobby.
"Az, seems you missed something. These are bullets we're talking about, not bombs. Exploding bullets no less. Sick huh?" Mal said.
"I don't think sick begins to describe some things, but, I suppose its better than sticking bombs in people," Azreth prattled.
"Containment field Active," the computer chirped in as a large whirring sound filled the room. One luminescent beam was fired into the corpse, which shuddered and then exploded into a gooey thin paste that began to trickle onto the sterile tile floor.
"Containment field lowered. I am sorry the cadaver could not be saved, Rictor." The computer was almost sympathetic.
Rictor shrugged. "For the best, really." He murmured his thoughts softly aloud, "No room for imperfection…" Then he called to his dimwitted orderly, "Limer, get a mop and clean this up."
"Well," Garth said, looking into the room. " I'd hate to be the guy that cleans that up." Mera nodded and followed him away. Her stomach a bit queasy from having seen more than she really ever wanted to see.
==
Mal and Azreth followed them at a distance. "So what do you do for a living anyway? I mean, it must be important." Azreth asked Mal as they moved back toward the lobby. Mal removed a scented cigarette from a gold case and shrugged.
"What do I do? Some odd jobs, here and there." The answer was evasive, flat.
'Must pay pretty well." Azreth pushed.
Mal merely mumbled in agreement then blew air out his nose at the smell of the exploded cadaver. "Wow, never knew the hospital was this exciting!" He and Azreth exchanged glances as they arrived in the lobby. St. John was seated on the couch flipping through magazines and Mera had taken a seat next to him, her head resting on her folded arms.
"So, anyone hungry?" Azreth asked, causing Mera to look up at him in disgust. Mal sat down near her, smoking his cigarette.
"Are you guys real busy tonight? I mean, it seems you guys got your work cut out for you", he asked. Garth moved past them and retook his position by the window, staring up at the stars.
"I find it most curious that someone would place explosives in a cadaver. Unless, of course, that was the point," Eliot 7's voice came out over the quiet of the lobby.
"Apparently, they were some sort of explosive bullets, Elliot. But who uses them?" Mera pondered.
"The Nukes, probably," Mal answered instead of Elliot. "The future of warfare."
Mal and Azreth began to ponder the schematics behind the exploding bullets. Mera got up and rejoined Garth at the window, quietly resuming their conversation on the stars. As they kept to their quiet conversations, they were unaware of the discoveries being made in the examination room.
==
After Rictor had instructed Limer to clean up the mess of the exploded cadaver, he moved on to his next patient. This time, it was a woman. She was very attractive and had apparently been the victim of self induced suicide.
"Suicide. Second highest death rate among women," Rictor said
"Second only to cancer," Elliot agreed. Rictor lifted up the woman's arm and examined a puncture wound. He then bent over her face, noting her purpling lips. "Cyanide injection. Primitive, but effective," he said softly, shaking his head.
"Its puzzling, Rictor," Elliot 7 said. "Cyanide has a distinctly bitter-almond flavor. Generally speaking, most would choose a form of ingestion versus injection."
"Injection is quicker," Rictor responded. "She is the seventh this week. All previous six women were infertile. I've heard the Church provides these women with the injections"
Rictor leaned close to the cadaver, smelling the bit trace of perfume still clinging to her. "You'll look lovely in turquoise," he said to her, then kissed her lightly on the lips, shuddering. He yelled for Limer. The aide came in, drooling and dropping his mop.
"Get a gurney. She's ready." Rictor said, then leaned over her once more. "It won't be long now, my dear." With that, he nodded to Limer, who loaded the corpse onto a gurney, rolling her into the elevator. Rictor straightened up then went to the elevator himself. He caught St. John by the kimono strap as the flamboyant aide rushed by.
"I need hair spray, Elliot dear," St. John called out as the doors slammed shut and the elevator whisked them upstairs. The hospital was quiet, eerily so, as new stirrings began to emerge from the lobby.
==
Mal looked up from the couch and noticed a short, grimy figure come in, dressed barely in rags. It was a woman. She was a very small woman. Her face was covered in grime. He raised an eyebrow at her, then summed her up in one harsh word: "Scavenger."
Mera abandoned her conversation with Garth to take up her duties as nurse. She saw the small woman come in and offered a warm smile.
"May I help you?"
The stranger, known as Josi or Putter, was noticeably nervous around a group of people. She kept to herself and slinked along the walls rather then walking with any normal step. She cautiously took a chance on Mera.
"Me hand hurt," she said in broken words.
Mera nodded to her then offered to take her to the ER for some aide. After verifying that Josi was alone, Mera began to prepare a room for her. While she was doing this, another nurse came on duty. Terra walked into the ER and asked the first person she saw what was going on that evening. It happened to be Mal.
"Gunshot wounds, exploding corpses, the usual, " he deadpanned.
"Ah, well, I see," she responded, only a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She looked over at the exam room where Mera had started helping Josi. The woman's left palm had uncurled to reveal a nasty gash, apparently several days old and near infection. Terra walked over to see if she could be of aide.
"We need to get this cleaned up and quick. How long ago did this happen?" Mera asked
"Few days. My screwdriver slipped." The patient looked at Mera cautiously. "I tried to close it," Josi went on, pointing out her stitching attempt to Mera. Mera nodded, then looked at Terra.
"I think I may need your help on this one, Terra. It's an infected, open wound and its going to need an antibiotic." Terra nodded and leaned over Josi's hand.
"This should be easy," she told her comfortingly, then began cleaning the wound with some gauze. Josi's eyes widened as she saw Terra begin to fill a syringe with antibiotics.
"Your not going to cut my hand off, are you?" Her voice was filled with dread. Terra shook her head and gently gave Josi a shot in her shoulder.
"I'm just going to clean your hand out and, while that might hurt a bit, you will see some improvement as it heals. What is your name, by the way? I'm Terra."
"Putter." The girl lowered her head. Terra smiled to herself, going on about her work, glad she was able to help out those who needed her. Mera also smiled, then noticed by the clock over the exam room her shift was over . She touched Terra on the shoulder, then left the exam room to the receptionists desk. The hands of time moved slowly as the lobby continued to fill with the odd creatures the night put forth.
==
Mera signed out for the night. As she did so, her ears picked up the conversation in which Garth had embroiled himself. He and Mal were discussing whether or not Elliot should be reprogrammed to have a bit of rudeness in his memory banks. She smiled to herself. The Elliot Series was currently programmed to be helpful and was completely incapable of being rude or sarcastic. The system did not feel this was a logical step, as there was no logic to rudeness. Everyone agreed, though somewhat begrudgingly. The ever cheerful computer could sometimes be an irritation.
"Good night, everyone." Mera raised her hand in slight wave, moving to the stairway. Terra looked up from Josi.
"Night, Mera," she called, then went back to work on her patient.
"Goodnight, Mera," Elliot said crisply. Mera smiled again and wearily began to climb the steps. Outside, the hospital was a lone spot of activity on a dotted, grimly quiet world. The battle still raged in the hearts of many and for some, the fight never stopped. New patrons, each with their own personal struggles and problems, would continue to pour through the lobby doors. As Nurse Mera began her travels to her home, her day of tending the wounded over, such a newcomer was stealthily approaching the hospital steps.
| home | main | back | next |